


Of Hats and Flutes

by FixaIdea



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: ...I mean that kinda comes with the territory, Characterisation should be compatible with that too, Crossover, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, I read the novel since, Necromancy, Witches, at least i hope so, cameo by Xie Lian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: The cottage left behind by the notorious Black Aliss stood abandoned for decades, but one day, Nanny Ogg finds its chimney smoking, its garden tidied up and a bad-tempered donkey grazing by its fence.Aliss' steading has a new witch.(A collection of mini-fics dealing with how Wei Wuxian and the general Ramtops populance cope with each other, in vaguely chronological order.)
Relationships: (estabilished, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, background)
Comments: 289
Kudos: 429





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [О шляпах и флейтах](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912451) by [sophie_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_jenkins/pseuds/sophie_jenkins)



> While I have read about 30 of the Discworld novels and read up on the relevant Wikis, this work might still contain continuity or timeline errors, as well as some straight up asspulls, but I feel like if Pratchett himself can handwave such issues, then so can I.  
> Also when I firts started this I've only seen CQL and wrote with that in mind, but I think the characters aren't terribly OOC for the book either - this doesn't really put them into scenarios where their personalities would diverge depending on the version... so far at least. Going forward I'll probably lean more towards the book.

Nanny knew she should not be doing this. There was no point. The cottage she intended to visit, high up in the mountains, Hubwards of Lancre, was abandoned since the death of its last owner. No witch would take it, and no witch would directly take over the steading it oversaw – it was long since divided between three neighbouring witches, uncomfortable as the added workload was. The reason for this was the same thing that piqued Nanny Ogg’s morbid curiosity. The last owner’s identity.

Black Aliss.

While most witches were not nice, Aliss wasn’t good either. She was the ultimate cautionary tale, the perfect example what happened when someone went to the bad and stopped caring about such trivialities as Right and Wrong.

Nanny had no idea what she was expecting. Surely thieves and wildlife must have gutted the place decades ago. Still, since the idea to go see it for herself occurred to her a couple of days ago, it would not let her be. It burrowed into her mind like a persistent tick until she finally shrugged and decided she might as well give in. Let’s go scratch that itch, see some ruined walls and maybe get a nice drink after.

What she did not expect, at all, was to find a slightly decrepit but visibly renovated cottage, chimney smoking, garden freshly dug up, and a donkey grazing by the fence.

Once she scraped her chin off the ground, she carefully tested the small garden gate. It was open. Nanny walked up to the front door, all the while wracking her brain – what witchling was looking for a steading these days? And which one would be bold enough to move into this particular cottage? Upon knocking she could hear the noise of hurrying feet, a yelp, a crash, some muffled cussing, until finally the door opened to a crack, to revel the smiling, friendly face of a young man.

Nanny blinked. The husband maybe? A son?

‘Good day!’ she said, flashing a grin ‘May I see the lady of the house?’

The youth blinked and opened the door a bit further. Nanny pegged him to be somewhere between twenty and thirty. He wore long, black, red-accented robes.

‘Sorry madam, it’s just me here.’

‘Oh? You mean no one else is at home, or you live alone?’

‘Well, it’s me and my husband, but he’s back at the Monastery for now.’

This raised more questions in Nanny’s mind than what it answered. Maybe it was the honest mistake of a stranger, who did not know any better?

‘Do you know who used to own this place?’

The man frowned. When he finally answered, his voice had a definite defensive edge.

‘I’m told it used to belong to a witch, but no one claimed it for half a century now. Is there a problem?’

‘Not at all, not at all! I was just curious. Oh, there, see, so curious I’m forgettin’ to introduce myself! Gytha Ogg, but call me Nanny.’

The smile returned to the young man’s face and he bowed.

‘Wei Ying, courtesy name Wuxian, pleased to meet you.’

He straightened up and smiled. Nanny smiled back and batted her lashes. A moment passed. Then another.

‘Euhh… would you like some tea?’

Nanny nodded, satisfied. Very well, he had the right idea of how this was supposed to go, he was probably just flustered. Upon entering the cottage her mood dampened a little. The place was littered with talismans, diagrams and dog-eared, heavily annotated books. _Magick_. She tutted and sighed – Esme will have a lot to say about this.

Tea was had, and, about an hour later, Nanny left with more questions than what she arrived with. Despite his friendly demeanour and constant chatter, the man was decidedly cagey about his origins. Essentially the only thing decisively cleared up was that, contrary to Nanny’s initial idea, Wei was his family name, not Wuxian.

Nanny shook her head as she closed the gate behind her. Male witches were exceedingly rare, but no longer unheard of. Master Wei was young and handsome, which was less than ideal for the job, but at least his fashion sense was right and he seemed to have a nice dramatic flair.

We shall see, she thought. We shall see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be worth noting that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are sort of an amalgamation of their CQL and donghua selves.


	2. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Greebo finds a new chew-toy.

Greebo’s relationship with the new witch was… somewhat complicated. Well, according to Greebo, at least. Wei Wuxian’s end of the equation was really quite simple: Greebo was a condensed, unfortunately animated puddle of piss, musk and malice that grew a personal grudge against him after he punted him right across the valley for trying to eat Lan Wangji’s beloved pet rabbits.

Greebo saw things quite differently. For him, Wei Wuxian was a worthy opponent, the first one in so many endless, boring years! Oh how they duelled on that first wonderful night, fur and hair flying everywhere under the moonlit sky! This was the most fun Greebo had since the last bear learned not to cross him. Finally, an equal! A true rival! Almost – a friend!

From then on, Greebo made sure he was always on the man’s mind. Chewing up his vegetables and peeing all over his drying robes were all good and trusty methods, but nothing got him going like menacing the rabbits. What was so special about these fat little fluffballs was beyond Greebo, but also entirely beside the point.

Tonight was promising. He followed Wei Wuxian home so he could be certain he was present when he launched his next attack. After lying in wait for a couple of hours (Wei Wuxian was so much more entertaining when he already settled into something and was interrupted) he trotted up to the rabbit cage to inspect the new reinforcements. He hopped up and tore at the wire.

Minutes passed. Where was he? Greebo spat angrily at the cowering bunnies. Why won’t he come? Ah well… Let’s not give up yet, let’s savour the wait instead! What new trick will his friend come up with this time to thwart him?

The wire gave way under his claws.

A hidden talisman lit up.

A sharp note of a flute sounded from the cottage.

Yes. YES! Finally!

_Let’s dance._


	3. Delivery

Wei Wuxian fell into place with surprising ease, despite the odds. Being a male witch, being a man married to another man, his unorthodox methods and his constantly running mouth separately, on their own, may very well have gotten him into trouble, but spun together as they were, they created a bundle so far out of the average Ramtops denizen’s frame of reference, most people just accepted him as he was. Since there was no box he would fit into, however badly, they just created a new one, labelled it ‘Wei Wuxian’ and moved on with their lives.

That is not to say there were no rumours, far from it! The Ramtops were a secluded place where life was generally slow and only exciting when things got all pear-shaped, so people pounced on any new scrap of gossip-fodder with gusto, and young Master Wei was a juicy bit. In a week, the news of his arrival travelled across Lancre and the Chalk. No one knew for sure where he’d come from, but this did not stop anyone from constructing theories, one wilder than the last, and presenting them as hard facts. So Wei Wuxian came from nowhere and everywhere, including the imperial court of the Agatean Empire and the alleyways of the Shades in Ankh-Morpork. One of his most obvious shortcomings, at least in Nanny’s eyes, was that he seemed to loathe Greebo even more than the rest, but at least since he learned that he was Nanny’s cat he stopped going on about how he planned to turn him into a doormat – in front of Nanny anyway.

But a week passed, then another, then a month, and the work got done and since no news of outstanding incompetence reached her ears, Nanny stopped worrying about him. The only reason she was even thinking about him at the moment was because the man in question was wheezing in her kitchen, seemingly moments from keeling over, his usually pleasant brown face a bizarre if interesting mix of grey, green and beet red.

Nanny had no idea how or when he got in.

He was doubled over, which gave a nice view at the weird, cylindrical device strapped to his back.

‘There’s a… please help… there’s a…’

Nanny grabbed him by the elbow and pushed him into a chair. He attempted to get up immediately.

‘No time, you must come, there’s a baby…!’

Nanny pushed him back.

‘How ‘bout you take some nice deep breaths and explain what’s up once you can talk?’

While Wei Wuxian fought to calm down a bit, Nanny finally had the chance to take stock of her surroundings. Colours seemed off, that was the first thing she noticed. Greebo, on his way into the kitchen, stood frozen mid-step. She also just spotted the small, whizzing apparatus strapped to her wrist.

‘And what would this be, pray tell?’

‘Allows the… the Procrastinator to… work on you too’ said Wei Wuxian, still panting, gesturing at the device on his back ‘Slows down time.’

Nanny did a double take at her wrist. Well then. She may have seriously underestimated her young colleague.

‘I… see. So, what brings you here?’

Wei Wuxian gulped and took a big breath.

‘Mrs Keening… she’s in labour and… her husband came over… expects me to help but… I’ve no idea what to do. There’s no midwife in the village just… maybe some grannies but… Mr Keening wouldn’t hear of it… couldn’t think of anyone else to ask.’

Nanny tutted. Okay, so maybe she _over_ estimated him. Who trained this boy? Why skip something so important?

‘But why me, though?’ Wei Wuxian wailed ‘Why would they come to ME with this?’

Nanny shrugged.

‘Witches are expected to act as midwives, you should of seen this one coming.’

Wei Wuxian stared at her like she sprouted an extra head. After a considerable length of spluttering he managed to choke out:

‘I – what? …Witches, sure, but…?’

Nanny stared at him. He stared back. Finally Nanny sighed and covered her eyes with her palm.

‘Look, if it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck, looks like a duck _and lives where the previous duck lived_ , people may just go and assume that it is, in fact, a duck.’

‘…oh.’

‘Just so.’ she shook her head ‘All right then, let me fetch my kit.’

As soon as they were out the door another problem occurred to Nanny.

‘Hold on, how’d you get here?’

‘…On foot?’

‘Right’ Nanny huffed ‘No way I’m climbin’ all the way up there!’

‘Please, it’s about a baby!’

Nanny held up her hand.

‘Never said I ain’t going, I just ain’t going by foot! ‘Ere, hold this’ she said, showing her kit into the young man’s arms, and raced back inside. Not two minutes later she returned with her old broom.

‘Come, up you hop!’

‘Uh…’

‘Lad, I bin’ married three times, you won’t be showing anything new, just hold on wherever!’

They were well on their way, halfway to Wei Wuxian’s steading when the rest of Nanny’s thoughts finally caught up with her.

‘Where’d you get that Procrastinator?’ she yelled over her shoulder ‘You didn’t build it, did ya?’

‘It was a gift from Lan Zhan!’

Ah yes, the rarely seen, mysterious husband. The one who so often had to return to that monastery of his… a monastery… and had access to time-altering devices…

‘You never said your man was a History Monk!’

‘You never asked!’

Nanny decided to take this particular bit of information, tie it up with a neat little bow and stow it away, because right now she most definitely had no time to properly unpack all that. A bloody History Monk!

Once inside Wei Wuxian’s cottage, they found Mr Keening exactly as he was left, face scrunched up, hands raised for further wringing. Wei Wuxian quickly turned off the Procrastinator and kicked it behind a stack of books and clothing.

‘So as I was saying’ he said, beaming at the worried husband, upbeat and confident like nobody’s business ‘Mrs Keening might not be comfortable with a man, but you are in luck! I just so happen to have Mistress Ogg with me, who I’m sure would gladly help out!’

The little man, obviously confused but too upset to dwell on tiny details such as a woman randomly manifesting out of thin air in front of him, turned his watery gaze at Nanny. She flashed her most professional, reassuring grin at him.

‘Do lead the way, Mr Keening!’

Thankfully it turned out to be a simple case – as simple as a birth gets, anyway. Wei Wuxian may not have been midwife material, but he was useful enough for running to and fro with bowls of hot water and keeping the father and other nosy relatives from getting underfoot. If his knees buckled every now and then, Nanny was sure she was the only one to notice. The baby was finally delivered, both her and the mother healthy and in one piece, the place tidied up, the celebratory shots drank, and they were finally free to take their leave.

Not a moment after they passed a corner and were safely out of sight, did Wei Wuxian collapse by the nearest wall with a whining sigh and a thousand yard stare. Nanny patted the ground beside him, and upon finding it sufficiently dry, plopped down herself.

‘You know, for someone who didn’t realise they was doin’ witching, you didn’t do it half bad. Why do it anyway, if you ain’t a proper witch?’

Wei Wuxian, still staring ahead with glassy eyes, shrugged.

‘I just… people would come knocking and ask for help with this and that. And when I travelled around a bit, just to see the neighbouring villages they’d do the same. Come up to me and ask for my help. And, well… if I had the means, what was I supposed to do, say no?’

Nanny blinked. She gave the man a one over – hair a mess, glassy expression slowly melting into his usual grin, legs still shaking from where he raced miles down the mountain to save a baby… She smiled.

‘You’ll be all right, my lad’ she said, patting his shoulder ‘You’ll be just fine. Just get yerself a broom.’


	4. Chenqing

It was easy to die in a forest. Even down in the mild oak woods of the lowlands, the unlucky wanderer would stumble and fall into a creek, fall prey to wild animals or, worst of all beasts, fellow humans. Here, up in the Ramtops one had to add on the freezing cold of the nights, and the long, harsh winters. Strolling around in a forest, one could be certain at all times that they were walking over the remains of beings long gone.

Ned Odds never spent a moment thinking of any of this. Ned was a city boy, so in his mind lurking death and decay was more closely linked to unlit back alleys than some pretty trees. Sure, he was born in the Ramtops, but his parents packed up to seek a better life in Ankh-Morpork when he was three, so he had no memories of the place, and thus no realistic expectations when he decided to visit. Based on his mother’s nostalgic sighs, he rather counted on finding sweeping, picturesque landscapes, smiling, simple people not bothered by the stresses of breakneck city-life and just generally some fine bucolic idyll.

What he actually got was a lot of mud, wind, rumours of increased bandit attacks, getting up at five and a very grumpy uncle who had some Opinions about folks who called all this a ‘bucolic idyll’.

The view was nice though.

Ned rubbed his face as he watched the above mentioned uncle proceed to give hell to the local witch.

‘Now if you would stop fidgeting and concentrate, we’d finish so much sooner…!’

‘I ain’t never seen no witch tryin’ to cure people with playing the flute at ‘em!’

The witch twirled said flute and poked Mr Odds with it.

‘You do know who the last witch of this village was, right? Would you rather try her methods then?’

Ned did not know, but apparently Mr Odds did, as he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

‘Thought so. Very well, sit tight, cross-legged, yes, like I showed you, and concentrate.’

A couple of minutes passed in peace, Master Wei playing what he claimed was a calming melody, Ned turning back to the book he brought…

‘I’m just sayin’ I called you ‘cause my stomach hurts, is all…!’

Master Wei paused. Ned saw the tell-tale flicker in his eyes, the one people got before they started throwing things, or, as it were, showing flutes up various orifices, but eventually he just sighed.

‘Like I said. You need to drink the tea I gave you too. That will help heal your stomach. But the root of your problems is that you constantly worry and overthink everything, that’s what I’m trying to treat.’

He would have gone on, but Mrs Odds poked her head inside the room.

‘Are you all done in there? Mr Lan’s here to pick up Mr Wei!’

A tall man followed behind her. He was clad in white and light blues and had shiny, short black hair. He bent forward, reaching out for Master Wei…

Time seemed to stand still. The two men stood, holding hands, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. Ned could have sworn he smelled peonies on the sudden light breeze that sent the witch’s long hair and robes fluttering.

Ned blinked.

And blinked again. They were gone. Ned had a vague recollection of the men bowing and saying goodbye, but he wasn’t sure.

‘Them’s always like this’ Mr Odds grumbled ‘Must be a witch thing. Or maybe a History Monk thing, seeing how time goes all slow when they get like this. Thems carry this mushy bubble with ‘em and when they stop and gawk at each other like that, you must also stop and let ‘em. It’s weird.’

Ned had no idea what a History Monk was supposed to be, so he chose to file the whole Moment away in the ‘this might as well happen’ category.

Mrs Odds tutted and plucked a stray petal from her husband’s hair.

‘How’d they keep getting these things indoors though? In autumn too?’

Ned was about to look for something to make himself seem busy, lest he be roped into milking the goats again, when he spotted a small red pouch. When both his aunt and uncle denied ever seeing it, he concluded it must belong to the witch, snatched it up and raced out the door. A couple more goat-less minutes won!

He found Master Wei still on the road, strolling back towards his cottage at a leisurely pace, arm in arm with Mr Lan.

‘…Worst part is, they expect me to treat every one of their symptoms one by one, as if they were separate problems. They get all suspicious when I try to get them to look at the bigger picture’ the young witch shrugged ‘Now I just give them some funny-smelling tea for whatever hurts the most at the moment and try to get along with the actual treatment while they are too distracted to fight me.’

Ned quickly caught up with them and returned the pouch. Master Wei laughed, thanked him profusely, declared he’ll forget his own head next, and turned to leave again. Ned tried his damnedest to come up with some topic of small talk to prolong the time spent away from chores, but he had nothing. He sighed, resigned to face the goats.

‘Must you go already?’ he heard Master Wei ask. Perking up, he turned back around, but the witch was looking at Mr Lan.

‘Just a week this time.’

Mr Lan raised his hand and gently cupped Master Wei’s face. Ned spun on his heels and scurried away. Getting caught in one of their Moments was enough for one day.

The next couple of days went by in the usual routine of a mountain village, which meant peace and quiet, but also an uncomfortable amount of hoes, spades, washing in cold water and goats. Ned was already planning his escape, when the news reached them: a farm outside Lancre Town was burned down and gutted. The next day, another, this time further up the mountain.

This only made his resolve to cut his visit short even firmer. He packed up, changed his mind, unpacked, and then packed up again. Sure, he wanted to go home, but maybe the road was even more dangerous? Surely no self-respecting robber would come ransack such a poor and tiny village, what would they even find here? It took him a terribly long time to fall asleep that night.

He woke to the sound of screams, and to one of his cousins frantically shaking him. As he stumbled outside he prayed to whatever passing deity that would listen to strike him down next time he got the idea to put a single toe outside Ankh-Morpork.

Some barns and huts were already on fire. Ned spotted a group of men dragging away the innkeeper’s horse – the only one in the village – by the reigns. The villagers ran – but not looking for an escape, no. Looking for weapons. The bandits were armed with arrows and jagged swords, but these were mountain people they chose to mess with. Some rusty old sword was no worse than a bear and the villagers had everything to lose. By the time Ned found a stray plank to brandish, most of the people already rallied around Mrs Keening, who waved a heavy cast-iron pan above her head and screamed profanities at the attackers.

Ned’s already frantically pounding heart crept into his throat. They won’t just flee. There will be a fight. Blood will spill.

A sharp note rang and cut through the air.

A flute.

The fires flickered, flames turning a sickly pale green.

All eyes, as if drawn by an invisible force, turned towards the source of the sound. Behind the mass of villagers, a shadow rose. A tall, slender shadow with glowing, blood-red eyes, playing a flute.

No one was quite sure what happened next. Shades, vaguely human shaped ones, spilled out of the forest and fell upon the bandits. What exactly were they, no one could tell. No one got a good enough look – no one wanted to.

It was over in a blink. The screams died down and the attackers were gone, the only sign they were here at all the burning huts (flames already red and yellow again) and a spilled quiver of arrows. The terrible shadow disappeared too, folding in on itself, leaving only young Master Wei in its stead. His bare feet and un-brushed, loose hair suggested that he tumbled out of bed as frantically as everyone else, but now he was just twirling his flute, looking mildly annoyed at most, seemingly oblivious to how everyone stood frozen, staring at him.

‘Don’t just stand around’ Mrs Keening shouted ‘These fires won’t put themselves out!’

This effectively broke the spell and everyone, Ned and the witch included, ran off to fetch buckets and form a daisy-chain from the well to the burning buildings.

The next day found Ned packing, this time for good. On the other side of the room Mr Odds sat cross-legged, with perfect posture, silent as a statue, letting the calming melody gently float around him.

When Ned departed, later that day, he vaguely wondered what might be hiding among the trees. After all, it was terribly easy to die in a forest. He shook his head and set out towards Lancre Town, the sound of Wei Wuxian’s flute still echoing in his thoughts.


	5. The Hat

Lan Wangji was content. He was finally home, on his longest official leave yet. The memo from the Abbot stated that he shall arrive as the last leaves fall and leave in the spring as they return. While Lan Wangji appreciated the poetry, in all honesty he would not have minded some exact dates. Or the specification of the kind of trees in question, because at this altitude one mostly found evergreens. But then, the note did contain the word ‘spring’, so he elected to ignore the possible passive-aggressive interpretation and take it at face value, as at least three months of uninterrupted free time with his husband.

He was puttering about in their small kitchen, preparing tea. Wei Wuxian was out checking on a neighbour, but he was bound to return any moment now. He allowed himself a tiny smile and swept a few strands of hair out of his face. He stopped shaving his head the day he got married and his hair almost reached his chin by now. He was still getting used to it – one of the downsides was that he could no longer exclusively blame Wei Wuxian for shedding all over the place.

There was a knock on the door. Lan Wangji… did not raise an eyebrow, but did experience the feeling of doing so. Wei Wuxian would not have bothered knocking, so maybe another villager? With a barely audible sigh he put the kettle down and opened the door.

It was a witch. A tall, thin, stern-looking one, dressed in the customary all-black attire. Lan Wangji suppressed another sigh – just what they needed right now. Sure, he knew witches often went around to check on each other, but it would have been nice of this one to pick another day. None the less, he bowed and introduced himself.

The witch nodded curtly.

‘Esmeralda Weatherwax’

Lan Wangji’s stomach dropped through the floorboards.*

Ah.

That one.

He was reasonably certain his dread did not show up on his face – it never did – but then he was equally sure Mistress Weatherwax noticed anyway. Not knowing what else to do, he bowed again.

‘Wei Ying should be home soon. Tea is almost ready. Do come in.’

The next few minutes were spent by impassively slurping tea on Granny’s side and internally screaming on Lan Wangji’s. Should he try for small talk? Should he offer her something to eat and find refuge in the kitchen while he prepared a meal?

He was saved by the arrival of his husband, who swept through the door in a flurry of robes and fallen leaves.

‘Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you won’t believe what just happened! I just saw a sheep that…!’

He stopped so abruptly, he almost tripped on his own feet.

‘…Mistress Weatherwax! What a pleasure!’

‘Wei Ying.’

Now Lan Wangji did arch an eyebrow. On one hand, this was a good sign, because he was told witches got more polite the angrier they were, on the other hand jumping right to birth names seemed a little excessive. The only one who addressed his husband as anything but ‘Master Wei’, except Lan Wangji himself, was Nanny Ogg, who opted for ‘A-Xian’ as soon as she learned how proper diminutives worked, and who apparently took a shine to the young man.

Wei Wuxian seemed to have similar thoughts if his expression was anything to go by. He shook his head and quickly hid behind his usual grin, taking the kettle from Lan Wangji to refill everyone’s cups.

‘To what do I owe this sudden visit?’

‘I came to see how you’re holdin’ up and if I’m to be honest… is that how you went out? On a visit?’

‘Well… yes?’

‘How’d you expect to be taken seriously if you ain’t dressing properly? You don’t even have a hat!’

‘I do though?’ said Wei Wuxian, gesturing at his straw hat that hung by the door.

‘And what sort of hat is that? It’s barely pointy and all the wrong colour. No proper witch should be runnin’ ‘round bare-headed or in… that.’

Wei Wuxian fixed her with an unreadable expression.

Granny did not linger for long. After a couple of more cutting remarks regarding ‘magick’ she handed back her cup and was gone. As soon as the door closed on her, Wei Wuxian buried his face into his hands and his shoulders began to shake. Lan Wangji blinked. Was he laughing?

The idea flew out the window when Wei Wuxian sniffled and rubbed his eyes. Lan Wangji froze, his heart momentarily torn between jumping into his throat and plummeting into his stomach. He gingerly reached for his husband and pulled him into his arms.

‘Wei Ying?’

He had half a mind to race after the old woman and… well, maybe not clock her, but at least follow her home and play the zither at her until she got a head-splitting migraine. But what happened here? Sure, she was rude, but Wei Wuxian bore so much worse with a smile before. Maybe this was the last straw?

‘…Wei Ying?’

Finally Wei Wuxian looked up at him - beaming like the Sun. Lan Wangji blinked again.

‘I’m allowed a hat.’

‘Mn?’

Wei Wuxian sat up properly and looked him in the eyes.

‘A proper witch hat is an emblem of the office. What you just heard was the closest Mistress Weatherwax will ever get to telling me that I passed, that I’m good enough.’ he chuckled, a little wet, but light and happy ‘I’m allowed a proper hat. I belong here.’

*The fact that the common folk chose to call him Light-Bringer Lord hinted at the fact that Lan Wangji did not scare easily. This was quite true, but then again, even for the bravest of the brave, it was a perfectly reasonable to retrain a healthy amount of wariness for someone whose name translated to ‘GO AROUND THE MOUNTAIN’ in Trollish.**

**What, did you expect me to go through a whole Discworld fanfic without a single footnote?


	6. Old friend

The Ramtops were a peculiar place. If you lived there, you had to expect the unexpected all day, every day. Creatures written off as myths and fairy tales everywhere else were commonplace here, stories wound around your neck and ensnared you like some carnivorous climber and even plain old geography worked a bit funny.

This might have been the reason why no one thought to bat an eye over the roaming corpse for almost a week. Well, they did, they did bat an eye, and also jumped and screamed whenever they spotted it, but they did not think to do much about it. Every now and then it was seen looming by the road, among the trees or on the fringes of Lancre Town. Action was only taken when it accidentally spooked one of Nanny Ogg’s countless grandchildren.

This, now this would not stand, so a nice, sunny, late-autumn afternoon found Nanny, her son Jason and Jason’s favourite hammer lurking in the bushes, corpse-hunting. They found their prey with surprising ease. It was standing in the middle of a meadow, visibly distracted by the pretty falling leaves. It – he – although pale and moving a little stiffly, was in a surprisingly good condition for a dead body.

Nanny scratched her chin.

‘Maybe we should go talk to him.’

Jason frowned.

‘It’s a corpse.’

‘So?’ Nanny shrugged ‘No need to be so small minded! No need to go ‘round judgin’ people just ‘cause they’re a little dead!’

The boy – he barely looked older than a teenager – did not cause any serious trouble so far and going by the way he admired the dancing leaves, he seemed to be sentient. Right now he had his back to Nanny – he just caught an especially beautiful red leaf and stopped to examine it.

Well then. No need to be aggressive. Nanny was about to step out of the shrubbery when she heard some rustling and a soft clicking noise behind her. She turned and watched Wei Wuxian creep out from among the trees, eyes glued to a strange compass.

‘A-Xian? One of yours then?’ Nanny whispered as he joined them.

‘Not that I know of’ he said ‘I just heard there was a zombie problem so I thought I’d take a look.’

‘Right then. He looks friendly enough. Let’s go have a chat.’

Nanny smoothed down her many skirts, Jason hauled his hammer onto his shoulder and Wei Wuxian pulled out his flute.

They stepped out into the sunlight.

The zombie turned towards them.

Wei Wuxian’s flute clattered to the ground.

‘…Wen Ning?’

-

Granny was not pleased. She was in fact so pointedly Not Pleased, that after serving tea for herself, Granny, Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning, Gytha Ogg suddenly remembered some terribly important obligation and vacated her own kitchen.

The worst part was that Granny herself wasn’t quite sure what had her so worked up. Sentient zombies may not have been common, exactly, but they were nothing out of the ordinary either. Yet something, a vague sense of unease, kept tugging and crawling at the edges of her mind. Some would have called it premonition, but Granny knew better: it was years and years of experience ringing the alarm bells, but without being able to put a name to the reason.

Yet.

Granny huffed. Oh well. She will have to deal with this. She fixed her stern, unwavering glare on Wen Ning. He flashed her his most winning smile. It was decidedly shaky, but charming in a slightly watery way – which was rather an impressive feat from a corpse that could not cry.

Granny shook her head and re-directed the glare at Wei Wuxian.

‘So you say he used to be your… assistant, is that what you say?’

Wei Wuxian nodded and smiled.

‘Just like an Igor, then’ Granny huffed ‘Witches don’t have Igors, you know that, right?’

Wei Wuxian fidgeted but continued to hold her gaze.

‘He’s not an Igor though, he’s a zombie. And he’s my friend.’

‘I should hope so’ said Granny, arching an eyebrow ‘Because the sort as employs Igors is the sort as holes themselves up in some dark place, goes a-cackling over some experiments and gets torched by a mob.’

Silence fell. Much, much heavier and more loaded than Granny intended. Wei Wuxian went as pale and still as Wen Ning, who in turn kept his eyes steadily on his toes and looked like he wanted to sink into the floorboards. Wei Wuxian reached out and squeezed his hand.

Ah. This was what she sensed. A Story.

Granny took a great breath and exhaled through her nose.

‘Very well. If he ever gets injured, try not to make the stitches too visible. You’re a witch now, behave like one.’

Wei Wuxian looked uncharacteristically solemn as he answered.

‘He’s my friend. I would have brought him here sooner if I could‘ he turned to Wen Ning ‘I would have looked for you, but I thought you were dead! Well… deader. The in-pieces sort of dead.’

Wen Ning nodded and pressed Wei Wuxian’s hand.

‘I thought the same.’

Granny rolled her eyes and finished her tea. Well then, for now the situation seemed to be under control. She was almost out the door when she turned back.

‘And Wei Ying? Try not to blow your cottage up too often. People will _think things_.’

-

What exactly happened to Wen Ning and how he wound up in the Ramtops were all questions he wanted answered as much as anyone else. He vaguely felt like he did not just imagine Young Master Wei’s death, but then, the man stood right in front of him, whole and hale. His strange, quiet husband claiming that all that happened in a reality that did not exist anymore didn’t exactly clear things up either, but he did not elaborate, and Wen Ning did not push.

-

The wind was roaring, twisted the trees and sent the beams of the cottage creaking, but Wei Wuxian did not care about, or even notice any of it. He had an Idea, an Idea that needed proving and testing right at this moment.

Lan Wangji and Wen Ning watched in serene silence as he ran up and down the small room, brandishing a brush in one hand, picking up and throwing away book after book with the other. He bounded over to the table and plopped a scroll on top of an ever-growing pile. Now for some ink and paper for the talismans, some ingredients for the potion and…

A heavy hand on his wrist stilled him.

‘Wei Ying’ said Lan Wangji ‘Not now.’

Wei Wuxian blinked. He did not even notice when he got up.

‘Why though?’ Wei Wuxian whined ‘I have the perfect idea and you know me! If I don’t do something about it now I’ll just forget it!’

‘Not now’ Lan Wangji repeated ‘Look at the sky.’

Wei Wuxian did. A dark, heavy cloud was rolling towards them from the direction of the plains. In the sudden silence he could hear the muted sound of - for now - distant thunder.

He gingerly placed his brush on the table and stepped back.

‘Right. Not now.’

Lan Wangji squeezed his hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles.

‘Remember what Mistress Weatherwax said. Mind the Story.’


	7. Street food

Maggie Wittle packed and unpacked her trunk for the fourth time. Her and a handful of other apprentice witches were going to Ankh-Morpork for a two-weeks field trip, many of them, Maggie included, leaving the Ramtops for the first time.

'Off to the big city, huh?'

Maggie nearly jumped out of her skin. The newcomer, Master Wei Wuxian, laughed and propped himself against the doorframe.

'Relax, I'm just looking for the mistress of the house. You all packed then?'

Maggie looked at the pitiful heap of her belongings then back at Master Wei. Following her gaze, the young witch snorted and tutted.

'Don't sweat it. You'll travel in a pack, if you forget something, someone will help you out. Word of advice though...' he said, pushing himself off the doorframe 'Steer clear of the street food.'

'...Is it that bad?'

'Worse. A true letdown. My favourite travel guide-writer, Liang Duohua really hyped it up, but it's tragically bland, and never the right amount of dead.

'...uhhh?'

Wei Wuxian scoffed and shook his head.

'Either not dead enough, or has been dead far too long.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Oh, yeah, Liang Douhua is what you get if you ask Google Translate how to say Two Flower in Mandarin.


	8. The man in white

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for a brief aside, and a guest appearance!

It’s been a few months since the stranger in white settled down in the woods outside Lancre Town. These days, more often than not, he was seen camping out on the steps of Granny’s cottage, peeling vegetables, sweeping, or simply sitting around sunbathing. In fact, he spent so much time around her, the rumour arose that, just like Nanny’s Greebo, the kitten You also somehow acquired a human form.

The detail that You was female did nothing to deter it - after all, if she could change into a human, altering this insignificant little thing shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Tiffany met him a couple of times, if only in passing. He was unfailingly kind and polite – just like now, greeting her with a small nod as she passed by him. He was digging up the cabbage patch, muddy up to his knees, long white sleeves tied behind his back. Tiffany waved back at him.

Conversation with Granny was always a bit of an adventure. If it did not run dry immediately it could revolve around goats for an hour (where a couple of days after the fact you realised you were actually discussing free will) or it could, just like now, jump right into the strangest of topics. Like gods. She had some opinions on gods.

‘There’s just no point believing in gods, is what I’m sayin’‘ Granny finished her rant with an angry huff.

‘But they do exist though, right?’ Tiffany asked.

‘Of course they do, but there’s no point encouraging them. Might give ‘em ideas. Besides they are all useless anyway. Can’t even peel potatoes properly.’

Tiffany was about to ask for elaboration when a slightly offended whine cut her off.

‘Please, I’m trying!’

Granny scoffed and stalked out onto the porch, following the voice, with Tiffany closely on her heels.

The man in white was leaning on his shovel, looking upset.

‘Try harder then’ Granny bit out ‘You’d think a martial god would at least know how to use a knife, but no! Yer not even peelin’ ‘em, yer choppin’ ‘em to blocks!’

The man made a wounded little keening sound and pulled his head deep between his shoulders.

Tiffany had questions. A lot of them. After a brief deliberation though she decided to swallow them and carry on - some things were better left alone.

***

Granny glared. Mrs Earwig glared back. Finally Granny summoned up her meanest, most polite smile.

‘Oh deary me, would you look at that, I forgot you were coming over. Let me go put the kettle on.’

Turning around, she called inside the cottage.

‘Lianlian, be a darling, help this old woman out. Cook us a bite to eat, would you?’


End file.
